


The stars in the grass

by Syrse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), I swore I was done writing fanfiction, Lower Tadfield (Good Omens), No Smut, Oneshot, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), and so am i, they are both stupidly soft, this fanbase is ineffable, what am I even doing here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrse/pseuds/Syrse
Summary: They were always nice, these little visits to Anathema and Newt. A bit odd, and slightly strange, but nice. Even if the kids always showed up, somehow. They had lingered a bit longer than he'd thought they would, and Aziraphale would quite like to get going.Only Crowley hasn't come in yet from the garden.What exactly did the kids say to him?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 109





	The stars in the grass

Night had fallen.

This should not, strictly speaking, have come as a surprise. The whole point of averting the apocalypse had been, after all, to keep everything going. Onwards and turning, as it were. The Earth in relation to its sun very much included.

“Would you like some tea, Aziraphale?”

He turned to Newt with a winning smile. He hoped it was a winning smile, in any case. The man had proven to be quite the jittery fellow, even well outside of apocalyptic events. But he flinched only slightly when Aziraphale, very politely, turned down the offer. So. Small victories.

“Oh I really shouldn’t. They’ll be back in shortly, I presume.”

He hadn’t expected them to linger, long as they had. Not that visits to Anathema were in any way predictable. Not with the sort of reading she did nowadays, now that the One and Only Book had turned obsolete. And definitely not with Adam always somehow knowing when they were over.

Nor was there any rush. The shop would keep, as would the plants. Of all things in abundance, time was suddenly very much in that camp. Still, he hadn’t bet on watching the sunset, standing in the quaint little kitchen. He’d assumed they’d be back at the shop by now, or perhaps, at least, halfway back. He sighed into his cup. Driving back at night was going to be even worse than by day.

He was a bit late in realizing Newt had made him the tea anyway. No sugar, just the way he liked it. He hummed in belated thanks. Newt simply smiled, busying himself with coffee. The boy certainly was no idiot. He knew when a tentative no was actually a yes that didn’t know it yet.

Newt came with the cottage nowadays, as the humans said. Anathema seemed to be in no rush to move back across the sea. Some would call them a strange couple. Aziraphale would never presume to assign such condescending nonsense to anyone.

He sipped his tea, and stared out of the window. He couldn’t see them from where he was standing, but the children were loud enough to be heard. They were at that comfortable distance where their babbling sounded positively and delightfully cheerful, without the hindrance of actually understanding any of it.

Listen to children, actually listen, and the spell was all too easily broken.

It really was more up Crowley’s alley. There were reasons why he had stuck to the gardening, even if it meant Nanny had to come down once in a while to yell at him for letting the slugs and snails get away with everything.

Strictly speaking, the Them did _not_ come with the cottage, but whenever Adam showed, they followed, with or without invitation. Now that the adventure had passed, they had decided life had proven beyond a doubt to be very interesting indeed. So whenever an Angel and a Demon came to visit the Witch, it would be absolute madness to miss out, they had all agreed. Even if all they ever did was talk about books and drink tea and coffee.

Aziraphale liked to think they could always object to the intrusions. Should they ever want to. But you couldn’t really help liking Adam. Even now, when he was supposedly as human as the next child. Especially now, actually. Surely it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out, just in case. Besides, they kept Crowley on his toes, which was always intriguing to see. From a safe distance, that is.

The voices drew nearer now. Newt joined him at the sill, coffees in hand. Anathema drank hers black, he knew. The other cup had received what Newt had come to dub the Shadwell Treatment. Nine sugars, and leave the spoon.

“All I’m saying is, I can’t see why we have to go home already”, Pepper’s voice said, in a tone that quite promised she could repeat the statement in infinite varieties. She had a knack for pulling bits into being by sheer force of willfulness.

The door swung open, Newt already reaching to hand out the coffee. “Well you don’t have to go home, but _we_ are going to bed, so you can’t stay here. Thank you dear.” Anathema took a sip without even blowing, her free hand stopping the door from opening all the way. “Go home kids. Visiting hours are over.”

Dog bounded through the foot of space, followed by an unsurprisingly disobedient Adam. “Got to say goodbye first! Bye Newt. Bye Aziraphale!”

Newt got a firm hand, while Aziraphale got a hug. Which was strange. The hugging bit, for starters, but also Adam doing it, because the boy usually just waved. He stood, a bit perplexed, arms out with the tea at a safe distance.

“I think I may have messed up”, the boy whispered into his shoulder, before straightening back with a careful and happy face. “Right. See you all next time. Come along dog.”

Anathema opened the door to let him back out, which immediately resulted in a kitchen full of kids.

“Actually, we all want to say goodbye too”, Wensleydale said. “It’s only polite.”

“Yes. Politeness and all that.” Pepper halted at the mat to forcefully pull Brian back who had, yet again, forgotten to wipe his feet first.

Newt was still standing to the side with the other coffee, and suddenly got a face on like a teacher after a school trip. “Hang on. Where’s Crowley?”

If Newt had been any kind of teacher, it definitely would have been that one substitute who’d only ever get one kid in thirty to be quiet. Mostly because they fell asleep. So it was quite amazing that the entire cluster of kids fell instantly silent.

Aziraphale had been frowning ever since being hugged, but now he cast it outward, towards the yard. Adam was looking in, almost bashful. He mouthed something that looked a lot like ‘sorry’.

Inside, the noise started up again all at once.

“It’s _his_ fault”, pepper began, pointing at Wensleydale, at the exact moment Brian went “How were we supposed to know—“

“Excuse me! I was hardly at fault for this!” Wensleydale protested through all of it.

“It’s my fault” Adam said, quiet enough to make Them all fall silent. He’d come back in, but only just. “He said we could ask him anything.”

“Anything.” Aziraphale said. Well. That did not quite narrow things down. “Where is he now?”

Brian pointed into the darkness. “I can show you if you like.”

“That is very kind, but unnecessary. You may all go home, and we will see you next time.” The angel’s voice brooked no argument, he was well aware, and so the only one to protest was Adam, who opened his mouth.

He closed it again when Newt put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on then. I’ll walk you home.”

Aziraphale handed his empty mug back. “Anathema, Newt, thank you for having us. We must do it again soon.”

He waited until Newt had gotten the children halfway down the path before stepping out. It was always a tad strange, to be back in Tadfield. It would appear tonight turned out a bit stranger than usual.

There was no moon, nor were there clouds. Only the stars above, tilted on their summer axis. Behind him, the lights in the kitchen went out.  
  
“Crowley?”

The response was quiet, soft, and entirely un-verbal. Like a gentle pulse, neither pulling or pushing. He did not need light to follow it.

The grass whispered wet under his feet, all the way to the downward edge. Surely he must be getting clo-

His foot caught on something big and angled, something that very distinctively said ‘oof’ as Aziraphale almost went sprawling. “Bugger” he uttered, flailing wildly to ensure he didn’t step on his idiot friend who had, apparently, found it a splendid idea to sprawl his very dark profile into the very dark garden.

The angel glared down. “Honestly, Crowley! What on earth are you doing?”  
  
“Neh”, Crowley said, as a way of a verbal shrug. Even up close, it was hard to pinpoint where all the limbs went. The only thing giving his position away were his sunglasses.  
They were reflecting the stars.  
  
“Is that all you have to say?” Aziraphale huffed, straightening his jacket. “I could have fallen!”

“But you didn’t.”

Aziraphale faltered, hands halfway up to his bow tie. That hadn’t sounded like Crowley at all. Not one he had heard very often. In fact, he sounded a lot more like the ‘drunk out of his mind, holding a slightly burned prophecy book’ kind of Crowley.

And he still hadn’t moved.

“Are you... are you alright?”

“I think I’m done with questions today, actually angel, thanks.”

Ah. _That_ Crowley he knew slightly better. Venom and spite. Put up a wall. You stay there, I’ll stay here and have a long and proper sulk. It might have worked, once. Before.

He lowered his own body to the ground. In the dim light, he could sense rather than see Crowley’s startled shift.

“Don’t move on my account. Plenty of space.” The night-dew was soaking into his coat, cool against his back.

Next to him, Crowley was sputtering. “You can’t just—lie down.”

He folded his hands primly, and ignored the cold. “ _You’re_ doing it.”  
  
“The grass is _wet_.”

“Yes, I can feel that.”  
  
“You’ll get stains all down that coat.”

“Most probably.”  
  
“You… gnn… a hundred and eighty years!”  
  
What was one hundred and eighty years, compared to six thousand, Aziraphale thought. What he said instead was “It’s just a coat, Crowley.”

Crowley worked his jaw furiously. “I’m not removing them for you.”  
  
“I never asked you to.”

“I’m still _not_.”  
  
“Fine.”

“ _Fine_.”

Above them, the stars shone distant, and turned on their axis, on and on.

It was a good thing indeed, Aziraphale considered, that time was solidly on their side. Still, it might be best if they were out of here before the postman found them in the morning.

He could suggest they go home. Knowing Crowley, he’d drive just a bit more maniacal on the way back, offer to hang around just long enough to get utterly plastered, and ignore the whole thing ever happened.

Or he could ask. But then again the whole bother seemed to have started with questions. So perhaps best not.

Wet grass beneath, cold stars above. And not a sound from his left.

“They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they?” And belatedly he realised this too could count as a question, so he hastened on. “I mean, you never really see them this way, not in London. Too much interference.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He just knew, when it came with the utmost softness, that it wasn’t this.

“I helped build some of those.”

The angel flinched, undeniably, and had to work to keep his hand into the grass. He’d reached for Crowley’s, and he was barely not touching now, fingers clinging to the wet green. His sleeves were good and properly soaked.  
He chanced a glance to his left. The only visible part of Crowley’s face were the lights from above. Damn those glasses to both heaven and hell.

“Would… would you show me?”

“Can’t.” Aziraphale’s heart sank. “Not all of them. Eta Argus, you can’t see that one from here, not even on a good day. Too far north. And some of the others have dipped beyond the horizon by now.”

The grass had been chilly. In contrast, Crowley’s skin was impossibly warm. He was lifting their hands up towards the sky. If he had a breath to hold, he would have.

“Unukalhai, though. Bright enough, that one. Even for London. You can see the rest of its consellation here too.” His slender fingers gripped carefully, changing the angle. “Even the tippy tail.”

For a while longer their hands lingered, extended above the earth. And then they were lowered to the grass again. And just like that, the moment had passed.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale said, heartfelt and sure.

“Nng”, Crowley shrugged.  
  
Aziraphale closed his mouth, opened it, and closed it again. He really should stop asking questions. “Do you miss it?”

“Nah.” The demon shifted, and rose. He offered Aziraphale a hand up, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “That was before.”

It was easy, so very easy, to accept that hand. The hard part of it was letting go again. So he didn’t. He also knew, without having to look, that his coat was miraculously spotless and dry.  
  
“This is now.”

To the east, the sky had started to turn a deep and warm glow.

It was behind him, but he could see it all the same, reflected in the dark of those glasses.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh you guys, I shouldn't even be here.  
> I am supposed to work on my own stuff, but my brain today went "Stop everything. There's a Demon out there in the garden, and an Angel worried about him. You know you want to. Call it a character study, go on, it still counts towards your daily word count. Go ooon."
> 
> So yeah. Here we are.


End file.
